


Forbidden Steve/Jonathan Scenes the Duffer Brothers Don't Want You to Know About

by steve_harrington



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: M/M, im losing my gay mind, please god help these absolute disasters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-25 15:53:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17728223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steve_harrington/pseuds/steve_harrington
Summary: Various scenes that should've happened in canon but the Duffer brothers are cowards. Not in chronological timeline order, just in the order I write them.





	1. Amends

**Author's Note:**

> The demogorgon may have halted Steve’s plans to make things right after his fight with Jonathan the first time, but that wouldn’t stop him from trying again.

So that was crazy. That whole night was a nightmare, actually. Steve Harrington found his girlfriend, Nancy Wheeler, at the Byers house fighting a monster from some alternate dimension with guns, bear traps, a little arson, a shit ton of Christmas lights, and a wall painted with the alphabet for God knows why. It sounded even less believable when Steve tried to articulate everything in his head. His involvement all started with his asshole-ish behavior towards Jonathan Byers. That fight where Jonathan messed his face up good after Steve had trash-talked his family was the icing on the cake.

Steve hadn’t really meant to do what he did. Well, he  _ had _ , but not because he had a personal vendetta against Jonathan (or his family). He was just mad about seeing him with Nancy, time and time again. He was mad because she was starting to spend more time with Jonathan than with him. He was mad because he was jealous. Really, stupidly, blindingly jealous. Steve couldn’t help himself; he was so undoubtedly devoted to Nancy and wanted her all to himself. A selfish way to be, but that’s the kind of person he was. Keyword “ _ was _ .”

He fucked up, he knew that now. Steve also knew that it was his responsibility to own up to his mistakes. He wanted more than anything to make things right with Jonathan once and for all. So if it took a second attempt at apologizing, then so be it. Here he was, back at the Byers’s front door, hands buried deep in his pockets as he waited for someone to answer his knock. Joyce was the one to come to the door, she seemed perplexed.

“Uh, Steve, right?” Joyce folded her arms over her chest, eyeing the relative stranger before her. Joyce knew the name Steve Harrington, and the face that accompanied it, but not much more than that. The Harrington family wasn’t exactly sociable. “How can I help you?”

“Hi, Mrs. Byers, is Jonathan home? I’d like to talk to him, if that’s okay.” Steve took a hand out of one pocket and ran it through his hair. He gave a nervous smile and let his hand fall back to his side.

Joyce returned his smile, stepping aside to motion Steve into the house. “Of course, come on in. He’s in his room right now. Wait just a minute and I’ll let him know you’re here.”

Steve nodded a thank you and sat on the sofa. If he looked as anxious as he felt, he was sure he’d die. Dramatic? Maybe so, but that was Steve Harrington. The aftermath of last week’s shitshow still remained, to a lesser extent, in the Byers’s home. Some of the Christmas lights were still up, the painted alphabet was dried and cracking, leftover monster hunting gear tossed into a corner, and furniture hastily made presentable as a temporary fix for a clearly larger problem. The house itself was messy and cold, it hardly felt like home––at least to an outsider.

Will was nowhere to be seen or heard. He was probably off with the other kids, who he clearly needed some quality time with after the traumatic experience he’d gone through just days ago. The poor guy deserved a long break and an abundance of happiness.

In a moment, Joyce came back out, alone. She nodded at Steve, who promptly stood. “You can head right into his room; down the hall, first door on the right.”

With a quick “Thanks,” Steve started for Jonathan’s room. The door was slightly ajar, and creaked open with little effort. Jonathan turned to Steve, looking just as off-put as his mother had. He should’ve expected that, but being given the cold shoulder by Jonathan in particular left a small sting in his chest.

“H-Hey, Jonathan,” Great. Two words and Steve was already stuttering.

“Hey…” Jonathan shifted back in his bed and patted the spot across from him. 

Steve sat down, hanging his legs over the side, not wanting to put his shoes on the bed, but not wanting to take them off, either. He leaned back, placing his hands behind him on the comforter in support.

Radio static––awkward silence ensued. Jonathan assumed Steve would lead the conversation, considering he’d taken initiative in coming all this way; Jonathan had no idea why Steve Harrington was in his house in the first place. Steve was trying to get a handle on what he was going to say, still, and didn’t want to fumble over his words like an idiot. Neither of them dared break the silence.

Finally, Steve gathered his bearings, “So I uh, I came here to apologize, I guess. I’ve been pretty shitty to you and that’s totally on me.” He paused and glanced at Jonathan, who darted his eyes away from Steve instantly. Eye contact wasn’t exactly Jonathan’s forte. Steve continued, “I was out of line breaking your camera, and talking shit about you and your family when the only member of the Byers family who’s worth hating is your dad, s-so I’ve heard.” Jonathan looked back to Steve, they made eye contact. Something so miniscule shouldn’t have felt like so much to Steve. His heart raced. 

What the hell was happening? He came here to make amends with Jonathan, not melt in a puddle of disastrous bisexuality. Steve swallowed hard. “I, uh. Shit.” He sat up and rested his hands in his lap, focusing his eyes there; half to distract his nerves, half to avoid that burning sensation in his chest every time he looked at Jonathan. “I know I messed up. I really, really messed up. I was jealous.  _ Really _ jealous. Y’know…Nancy means a lot to me. For obvious reasons. And so seeing her hang out with you a lot? It, uh…it hurt. I lashed out on you and that wasn’t fair. It wasn’t your fault. I’m…I’m sorry, Jonathan, I’m really sorry. For everything.”

With that, Steve finally looked up from his lap, back to Jonathan. Back to those deep brown eyes; what a pretty color. Steve could feel his face heat up. Wait, what was he just talking about? Oh, yeah, apologizing. Now it was his turn to listen, if Jonathan had anything to say. Steve knew he wasn’t exactly the talkative type, so he probably wouldn’t have a long, nor quick response, and that was okay. Steve would be patient, as Jonathan had been with him. 

Again, radio static. The only sound was the two’s breathing. Jonathan’s was slow, steady; calm. Steve’s was quick and sharp. He closed his eyes and focused on slowing it down, using Jonathan’s breath as a guide. Soon their breathing patterns matched almost exactly, rhythmic, in a way. It seemed as though Jonathan was at a loss for words. Steve couldn’t help but feel like he had done something wrong. Like he shouldn’t have said what he did, shouldn’t have made eye contact, shouldn’t have come here at all. 

Of course, none of that was actually the reason Jonathan wasn’t saying anything. It was mostly because he was still processing everything Steve had said to him. It was a lot to take in, and all thrown at him in just a couple minutes. Jonathan eyed the stereo to his right, then to his comforter, and to Steve. Well, Steve’s  _ hands _ . The idea of looking anywhere in the vicinity of his face was too much. 

“I, uh, I’m sorry,” Steve started with a laugh, now babbling through his jitters. He wasn’t as patient as he wished he was, “I didn’t mean to come all this way just to talk your ear off for no reason. I d-don’t even know what I’m doing here. Maybe I should just go––” He began to stand, but he felt Jonathan’s hand abruptly grab his arm. Steve’s mouth hung open a little. The contact, Jonathan’s hand, was cold, so why did Steve feel even warmer? Jonathan was looking at his face now, but it wasn’t long before his hand retreated back to his side and his eyes shifted back to his bed.

“No, I…You’re okay. It’s okay. I’m just…not really sure what to say.” Jonathan sighed. “I guess, uh, thanks for clearing things up. And I’m sorry for spending so much time with Nancy. She came to me, I didn’t know it would be an issue.”

Steve shook his head, “No, no, no. That’s…I don’t care about that. I shouldn’t have felt so protective and…selfish. Nancy should be allowed to hang out with whoever she wants, and so should you, y’know? That’s not my place.” He peered over the bed at his shoes, internally debating whether to take them off and get comfortable or to keep them on and make a break for it. Steve made no effort to do either. He took a deep breath and looked back up at Jonathan. “How’ve you been holding up after…you know, everything?”

He seemed surprised by the question, “Me?”

“Yes, you. God knows your family’s been hit the hardest by all this shit. You doing okay?”

Jonathan shifted stiffly in his seat, frowning. He wasn’t used to receiving the concern of others. He’s always there for everyone he loves but…no one’s ever really been there for him. “Uh,” was all he could say. Jonathan shrugged and mindlessly studied palms of his hands. The scar from where he and Nancy had cut their hands to draw the demogorgon was still discernible, and still hurt if he squeezed it too hard, which he was doing right now; Jonathan winced.

“Hey, everything alright?” Steve drew his attention to Jonathan’s hand, “Oh…the cut still hurting?” Jonathan nodded, not looking up. Without thinking, Steve scooted closer to Jonathan and carefully took Jonathan’s hand in his. The sensation made his face flush, but he didn’t pay it any mind. He traced the wound with his fingertips, making sure not to apply too much pressure.

Unable to wrap his mind around what was happening, Jonathan froze. He couldn’t find the ability to talk or move, all he could do was stare as Steve held his hand, moving his fingers along his scar. Steve wasn’t even really aware of his actions, it was pure impulse.

After a minute, still holding his hand, Steve looked to Jonathan. They locked eyes. Steve felt himself melt. A hundred butterflies flew in his stomach. He searched Jonathan’s gaze for the answer to a silent question that he hadn’t known was ringing in the back of his thoughts for the past hour. Since he couldn’t bring himself to say a word, he knew the only way to find out the answer was to actually do the thing. So he did.

Slowly, Steve moved closer to Jonathan’s face, closing his eyes and feeling his heart pounding out of his chest.  _ Do it, kiss him, _ it shouted. He paused. His face was so close to Jonathan’s that the warmth of the other’s breath was right against his skin. The world at large disappeared, all that existed was them. He felt stupid for stopping. He should either kiss Jonathan or move away. What was he doing, anyways? What was he  _ thinking _ ? This was a dumb idea. He should just leave and avoid the embarrassment of living in his mistake. Maybe––

Before he could talk himself in or out of the mess he’d made, Jonathan made the next move. He leaned in to kiss Steve, and in an instant Steve’s flooding worries went down the drain. He moved his hands to cup Jonathan’s cheeks, inching himself even closer. Their shoulders met. He relaxed into Jonathan’s embrace. Steve was sure this was a dream. It wasn’t a dream, right? No, Jonathan’s hands against Steve’s waist and their interlocking lips felt all too real. He didn’t want to pull away. He didn’t want to move from this spot, from this moment. If he could live in this forever, he’d give anything. But of course, they had to part eventually.

As his eyes fluttered open, Steve wanted nothing more than to kiss Jonathan again. However, he didn’t want to be too greedy or come on too strong. He knew better than to ask for too much too fast. Steve decided to play it relatively safe and simply let his head fall onto Jonathan’s shoulder. He couldn’t help but grin, chuckling softly to himself. “I guess that’s one way of showing an apology, huh,” he mumbled.


	2. Solace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s the stupid Halloween party Nancy told Jonathan to come to and she and Steve just had a fight. Now Steve's having a breakdown and Jonathan just showed up at his car looking to comfort him. [TW: alcohol/drinking]

“Come and get sheet-faced,” The bright orange poster had said. What a great slogan for a Halloween party. Who the hell thought _that_ was the way to get people’s attention. I mean, obviously it worked, at least a little bit, if the whole high school was there. Although that was the last thing Jonathan Byers wanted to deal with tonight––the entire high school student body.

After letting his little brother Will go trick-or-treating without him, though, he couldn’t go back home. Joyce and Bob were probably having a date, and even if they weren’t, he couldn’t let his mom know he hadn’t stayed with Will; she’d lose her mind worrying about him. So, halloween party it was. Nancy Wheeler had told him to come, anyways, so maybe he could spend some time with her. Knowing her, though, she’d probably be there with Steve Harrington, and have no time to spend with boring old Jonathan. Nancy said he “might even meet someone,” but he doubted that would actually happen.

Reaching the driveway alone almost gave him a panic attack. There were _so many_ people. All of them “sheet-faced,” as the poster invited. Jonathan took a long, deep breath. Everything was fine. If he told himself it was, maybe he’d start to believe it, right? Everything was fine. Totally fine. He’d be so fine. All he had to do was stay until nine, right? Then he could go pick up Will and go home. Jonathan checked his wrist-watch, it was only seven o’clock. He sighed. Two hours. Two whole hours. No, _just_ two hours. He could make it two hours, everything was absolutely, completely, one-hundred percent fine. After one more deep breath, Jonathan got out of his car and headed for the door.

“Nice costume.” As he got inside, he was immediately greeted by a girl in a costume resembling some sort of rock band Jonathan couldn’t put his finger on.

“Thanks,” he said, looking down at his own, non-festive attire, straining his voice so he was loud enough to be heard over the extremely loud party ambiance, “I’m going as the guy who hates parties.”

She laughed, “I’m Samantha.” She held out her hand to him, he shook it.

“Jonathan.” He surveyed the room; there must’ve been hundreds of people here. Now it was bothering him, what _was_ Samantha’s costume? Or at least, what was he thinking it was? Finally, it came to him. “Kiss?”

Samantha was taking a sip of her drink. She smirked and raised an eyebrow, “Hm?”

 _Shit_ , Jonathan thought, processing what he just said and how easily it could’ve been misinterpreted. “The–The band.” Samantha laughed again. At least his awkwardness was mildly entertaining to someone.

Eventually Jonathan found an excuse to leave and weaved his way through the sea of drunk teenagers. He needed to find Nancy. He needed someone he knew to talk to that wouldn’t drive him up the wall, and who better than the girl who invited him in the first place?

He finally spotted her at the punch bowl having a fight with Steve. It appeared that way, anyways. Jonathan frowned. Was everything okay?  He walked closer, trying not to draw attention to himself, though that was easy to accomplish no matter the situation.

Nancy was very obviously drunk. The way she slurred her words and could barely stand without support were dead giveaways. That punch must have been spiked with something. Steve was visibly distraught. Very much so. As Nancy poured herself yet another cup of the punch, he tried to take it from her, not wanting her to get even more drunk than she already was. She wouldn’t let go, however, and the two wrestled over the full cup. When Steve finally gave up and let go, it sent the blood-red punch flying onto her pure white shirt.

The entire room fell silent. Nancy strode angrily off to the nearest bathroom, where Steve followed suit. Jonathan couldn’t have known what was happening in there, but he knew it was nothing good, all things considered.

About ten minutes later, Steve stormed out of the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him. He looked even more upset than before, believe it or not. He marched his way out of the house, ramming into countless people without a second thought. One of those people was Jonathan.

Jonathan wasn’t about to let Steve walk out looking like _that_ without checking to make sure he was okay or asking if he needed anything. He trailed behind at a safe distance, finding Steve in his car, hitting the steering wheel (and as a result, honking the car horn) a couple times before burying his face in his hands. Jonathan sighed and walked up to the passenger side of Steve’s car, tapping the window to get Steve’s attention.

Steve jerked his head up in surprise, but the sharp furrow of his brow faded as he saw who had disturbed him from his breakdown. He pressed a button and the door latch clicked, unlocking and allowing Jonathan to enter the car. He was immediately greeted by a strong aroma wafting into his face; it smelled like Steve, like hairspray and existential crisis.

Not saying anything at first, Jonathan studied Steve’s face. Steve was sniffling, wiping tears away with his sleeve. His face was red from crying, and it wasn’t long before it sank into his hands again. Jonathan wasn’t sure what to do, or say. All he knew was that Steve was really, really upset, which only made him upset.

“She…She doesn’t love me,” Steve cried, his words muffled through his hands, “Apparently I’m bullshit, and our relationship is bullshit, and literally everything is fucking bullshit.” Jonathan let Steve talk, but wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling Steve closer. Of course, it wasn’t ideal, seeing as they were in a car, but it was enough. Steve let his hands fall and rested his head against Jonathan’s shoulder. Jonathan could faintly smell alcohol on Steve, though he didn’t seem nearly as intoxicated as Nancy had been.

“We…We didn’t kill Barbara, did we?” He was muttering to himself, not expecting an actual answer from Jonathan, “I mean, how could I…How could _we_ have known? It wasn’t like that _thing_ was all over the news. We still have to keep everything under wraps even now.” Steve closed his eyes and winced, “Not even Nancy could’ve predicted what happened to Barb. I mean, if either of us had known, we wouldn’t have…” His voice trailed off, not wanting to admit out loud to having sex while Barbara was killed.

Steve tried to pull himself even closer to Jonathan, but it wasn’t an easy task thanks to everything dividing the driver and passenger seats. “Fuck,” he whispered, trying to think of a way to fix the problem. He looked around, finally eying the backseat. “Uh, Jonathan, would it be stupid if I asked for us to move to the back? I just…There’s more room.” Jonathan nodded, and the two stepped out of the car.

As they actually got in back, Jonathan sat upright, trying to relax but still feeling stiff. Steve, on the other hand, sprawled himself across the entire length of the backseat, his head on Jonathan’s lap. He grabbed Jonathan’s closest hand to him, holding it tightly in his.

Jonathan was getting worried. More worried than before. How much alcohol had _Steve_ had? Considering how he hadn’t wanted Nancy to drink so much, it couldn’t have been more than maybe a few cups. Could he not handle his alcohol at all, or was this just…him when he’s upset? That didn’t seem right; Steve was more the type to get mad.

“Mm, would you, uh…lie down, Jonathan?” Steve looked up to face Jonathan, his eyes pleading.

“I, uh, I don’t think that’s a good idea, Steve.”

“Please, I…” Steve started, letting go of Jonathan’s hand and sitting up a little, “I’m not gonna like, y’know…I just want to cuddle, really, please.” He bit his lip, hard.

Jonathan looked out the car window; it was parked a ways away from the house, so not too many people were around. He wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing. Then he checked his watch, it was 8:15. He still had forty-five minutes until he had to go pick up will. Jonathan sighed, “Okay, fine.” He did as he was asked.

“Thank you,” Steve whispered, his voice wavering. He then laid as carefully as he could on Jonathan. He wrapped his arms around Jonathan’s chest and buried his head into his neck. Steve sniffled and closed his eyes, letting out a long breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. Jonathan put his arms around Steve’s waist, trying to let himself relax.

For a while, neither of them said anything. The only sounds around them were their breathing and the barely audible party music. As time went on, Jonathan’s tension eased. He realized Steve really meant it when he said he just wanted to cuddle. They simply laid in there in Steve’s car, comfortable in each other’s arms.

“I’m sorry for…tonight,” Steve said, eventually breaking the silence. He didn’t move his face from Jonathan’s neck. His breath gave him chills. “I don’t know, I just…Things haven’t been great, recently. And this whole fight with Nancy hasn’t helped. I needed this, so, yeah, thank you.” Without thinking, Steve gave Jonathan a quick kiss on the neck. Jonathan’s heart beat so fast and so loud he was sure Steve would be able to hear how panicked he was.

“You…You’re welcome…I’m here for you, Steve.”

Steve let out a breathy laugh, “I appreciate it.” He paused. “Oh, and Jonathan?”

“Yeah?”

“Not right now, ‘cause, I still want you here with me, but could you make sure Nancy gets home okay? I worry about her…”

It was Jonathan’s turn to laugh. “Yeah, I can do that, I have to go pick up my brother in a half hour anyways. But what about you? Are you really in any condition to drive yourself home? _I_ worry about _you_.”

“No need to worry, I’ll be fine.”

“That’s not very reassuring, Steve.”

Steve pulled himself up with a groan and looked Jonathan in the eyes. “I’ll be fine,” he repeated, “I promise.” And with that, he leaned down and kissed Jonathan on the lips, parting after a few seconds with a grin. “I swear, you do enough worrying for everyone in this town combined. You care too much, Jonathan Byers.”

“But only for those who matter,” he replied, putting an arm around Steve’s back and bringing him down again, kissing his forehead before Steve rested against Jonathan’s chest.


End file.
